A Gift You Can't Refuse
Will I in this lovely summer day
Write words that darken
Your time, waste away?
My choice is to enlighten!
Will I in this brief and finite life
Write words that burden
Your mind, filled with strife?
My choice is to brighten!
Words may not be enough
For a distant embrace
Friend, do not give up,
God is amazing in Grace!
I will to pray for you
That's a gift you can't refuse,
Whatever you go through -
Prayer has eternal values!
'Perfume and incense bring joy to the heart,
but the pleasantness of a friend springs from his earnest counsel.'
(Proverbs 27: 9)
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Words are my weapon
words are my shield
Guns and knifes just ruin lives
so words I keep concealed
Words are all I have here
they help me struggle on
Words are here forever,
when all I have is gone
In my thoughts or in my poems
Words will help ease my brain
I write down what is on my mind
Expressing love or feeling pain
Not that many I can trust
But words I can depend
Words wont turn there back on you
Words are my only friend
poem by Nic Hillen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Flowery words may tickle the ears; even delight the person who hears.
Flowery words are not what I choose, if you desire to just be amused.
For I am truly not a poet my friend, and poetry is not my ultimate end.
Poetry is simply my chosen venue, this to share God’s Truth with you.
The words of men who went before, these are the words I underscore.
They may not be the poet’s choice, but they echo that important voice,
That one who spoke words of Life, The Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Words echoed today for you and I, and this long after our Savior died.
Words of Truth are what I impart, hoping to comfort or change a heart.
Changing souls one heart at a time, for this is Christ’s humble design.
His words are not meant to enthrall, but be a hope and comfort for all.
The words not meant to entertain, but address the issue of sin’s stain.
I will continue to write as I’m moved, for friend I have nothing to prove.
And friend you have nothing to lose, as it is His Truth that you choose.
His words of Truth are tried and true, the words that I share with you.
My friend, the end of each poem, for me, is one page closer to home.
It is simply a poem at the start, but then The Spirit moves in my heart,
And The Spirit’s words fill my pen, with The Savior’s hope for all men.
As I echo all these men of the past, it is a Hope that will eternally last.
When I enter my heavenly abode, a place above I’ll forever call Home.
(Copyright ©03/2006)
An Eternal Choice
We come into life with no choice, simply born as girls and boys.
We are born of a man and wife, through whom we enter into life,
They become Mom and Dad, teaching us what’s good and bad.
Making the early choices for us, as the people that we can trust,
To guide us in our early life, steering us from the pain and strife.
They make all the decisions too, of what we can and cannot do,
As they help us all to grow, learning the things we need to know.
Preparing children for a time, when choices are yours and mine.
They know there’s coming a day, when we’ll go a separate way,
When children leave their home, to make choices on their own.
As you live out your early days, you follow in your parent’s ways,
The choices early on in life, may not have included Jesus Christ.
When we leave that chosen path, we may invite a parent’s wrath,
In spite of your parent’s reproof, you must choose Words of Truth.
For when God’s Truth is ignored, we need to then seek The Lord.
Although from the very start, parents indeed have a critical part,
Many following their own heart, from their early ways will depart.
There is no bigger choice friend, than that of a man’s eternal end.
A choice that’s a personal one, when believing in God’s Only Son,
For the only way to eternal life, is choosing the gift of Jesus Christ.
The parents of girls and boys, can’t make a child’s eternal choice,
Even if they known the Only Way, it is a decision you must make.
No one can make for you or me, the one choice regarding eternity.
That choice in which you believe, must be made before you leave,
And only with this eternal choice, when you leave, will you rejoice.
(Copyright ©06/2006)
A Poem Speaking 4 U
how is poem..?
not Thing is thear...
ALL ARE WORDS
SOME WORDS NICE
SOME WORDS SPICE
SOME WORDS NOTHING
SOME WORDS LOVELY
SOME WORDS BEAUTYFUL
SOME WORDS HUNGRY
SOME WORDS ANGRY
THATS ALL...
WRITE IT
LOVE IT...
THIS IS FOR OTHERS
U ARE READ YOURS...
THATS ALL
TAKE A LITTLE SMILE
LIFE IS THIS..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hidden Within
I write more on some days
than I do on others.
On those days there is an urgency
hidden within what I do.
I cannot explain it,
nor do I ever try.
I just sit down, write,
and write to my hearts content.
The pouring out of words
is something I have got used to.
I write wherever I am, at home,
in my car when I am not driving of course.
Walking along the street, even in my sleep.
My mind is always active
exploring new avenues,
laying waste to more words.
It is my way of life
and I would be lost without it.
I once gave up for six or seven years,
but its pull was always there.
It’s something I will never do again.
My legacy when I leave this world
will be within my words
and any good things I have done.
Hopefully, that won’t be
for a long, long time to come.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost For Words
There are times when you think
you are lost for words to write
that maybe right or maybe not.
We always have words to say
when we are talking to someone.
Therefore when you think
you have lost words to write
you haven’t really.
Just think of a conversation
you might be having with a friend
and before you know,
the words will start again.
9 June 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words of Comfort
In my mind thoughts will flow, from The Truth I have come to know,
To words of light and encouragement, to the places I’ve been sent.
A comfort to all who do believe, and a light to all who are deceived,
God’s encouragement to a brother, while words of Truth to another.
Comforting words that I can say, to brighten a brother’s dismal day,
Words filled with hope and love, that point to our Savior, up above.
Words of Truth that only come, through The Spirit from God’s Son,
Who comes to dwell in our heart, from where words He does impart.
This to bring the lost to The Truth, through loving words not reproof,
So through our words men can see, The Loving Father of all Eternity,
Who came to die, to give us life, through His Only Son, Jesus Christ.
Who now lives, so that all men, through The Son can be Born Again.
Then receive The Spirit spoken of, when they accept His Son’s Love.
To be used upon this temporal earth, through the power of New Birth,
And the washing and regeneration, through His Blood unto Salvation.
Which only comes from God’s Son, the Lord and Savior of everyone.
You too will share the Living Word, speaking Truth until all have heard,
The saving Truth of God’s Salvation, Christ who came for every nation.
And then you will be a comfort too, to all who believe like me and you,
Speaking words of comfort friend, about life in Christ that has on end.
(Copyright ©06/2007)
Your Preferred Disposition
Come follow me were Jesus' words to the Apostles right at the start,
But words alone aren't enough, as you must follow out of your heart.
From Heaven Christ sent The Spirit to guide us in Truth my friend,
As Believers we must hear and obey His direction right to the end.
Paul, the light to the Gentiles said I wish you could all be like me,
He was crucified with Christ and in his life it was Christ you'd see.
Being crucified with Christ he said I don't live, Christ lives in me,
Believers too must follow Paul and crucify our lives upon that tree.
You will be tossed to and fro if you are influenced by this world,
Or grow in Grace if you heed the words Godly men continue to herald.
The choice is yours for God did not cut all of us out of one mold,
But we are all accountable to just One Shepherd, over one Holy Fold.
Individually we were knitted together with God's Grace and His Love,
With one eternal purpose of reflecting Christ, who now reigns above.
Out of the abundance of the heart words reflect the attitude of man,
And in deeper recesses could be unspoken motives of a hidden plan.
But remember, all things shall be revealed by Christ's Eternal Light,
So friend test the spirit and be certain that your attitude is right.
You can obey or quench the spirit of the One Jesus said He will send,
Knowing this, what will be your preferred disposition my dear friend?
(Copyright ©01/2004 Bob Gotti)
Words
I write there, and then you write they’re
I write who, and then you write whom
I misspell my words, too me you then curse
Then you call me a stupid loon.
You call me names, from which I refrain
Then I am off to a different room.
I forget punctuation's, It gives you frustrations
I don't use a contraction, you give me verbal action
Then I misspell a word, you call me absurd
I give you my silence it’s my only reaction.
You call me a name, my innocence I proclaim
My humility is seems, is your only satisfaction.
I sit at my typewriter, I still am a fighter
As I close my eyes, words still materialize
Words are my friends, rhyming is my sin
Maybe someday that, you will realize.
I finish another poem, to the world I show them
I write another verse, it becomes my universe.
You are my inspiration, my poems your creation
You correct what I write, it gives you such delight
You enjoy to respell, at words which you excel
You tell me they are wrong, I know you are right.
But you still are my friend, I hope it will never end
I am the poet, your a wordsmith and you show it.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Need to Write
I need to write a poem, but how shall I do it,
First of all shall I write standing up, or just sit;
Until I get comfortable, I won't be able to start,
All the words will be muddled up, and then it'll fall. Apart.
Now! I got it right, I will choose the title to write about,
No good getting frustrated, or even sit or pout;
Just need to relax, and then the words will come easy,
Cause if I try to hard, Then my stomach will feel queasy.
I know what sort of holiday would people like,
And as I start the poem, the hall clock did strike;
Oh! It is now is what I can do, write about the time passing,
And so I have the heading, the thoughts on paper lasting.
It's got colour, size, And description, and the taste of art,
It's come from my mind, emotions, and also from the heart;
It has vision, and thoughts about where I want to go,
Yes! I think it'll get some to agree, to me they'll show.
So if you have a problem to write a poem or story,
Just read this poem, as a help, it's a help from me;
Don't force the idea, or rush it through at all,
Just go have a cuppa, read an article or a friend call.
Eventually it'll come, the words will flow along,
You might even end up, turning it into a song;
Writing poems will be rewarding, just give a go,
And you might enjoy it, they may end up in a show.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Not Yet Over
A bleeding heart hits the page
The deep red stain sinks through
The soft sent of burning sage
Signals the death of you
But come to life my dear friend
It's not your time to go
You may think this is the end
But I will not believe it is so
So come to life again today
The light my just be near
Fight your way through the fray
And do not fight the tears
The pain you feel is true I know
But loss is not always forever
Though your thrown to and fro
I refuse to cause this sever
My dear friend stay here with me
The eternal night has not yet come
My dear friend just wait and see
We can make it if we run
She may be gone for now
But wait and see
Do not make yet, your final bow
She may yet think 'You and me'
Give her the time you took yourself
All the confusion not yet clear
Put your pain and fear upon the shelf
And tell her how you'ld hold her dear
I write this for you my friend
For I know your pain
I write this for you my friend
In hopes that you come through again.
poem by John Dillenger II
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I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write
I wrote a poem I could not write-
And then when I tried to write it again
Could not write it again -
Poems written and not written
Words and more words
What do they mean?
Paradoxes and games with words
What do they mean?
If there is Beauty in the language
It is one thing
But words just to hear themselves think,
Why should they mean ‘Remembrance'?
Oh Words oh Questions oh Darkness oh Life-
Let me write myself to the grave
Believing at least
That poems too even when they can be written
Have their small unhidden meanings.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I want to write
I want to write, something nice, but nothing comes to mind. Today words are unkind and will not come out from where they normally hide.
Today I want to write, write something nice, and make someone smile, to look forward to a lovely day and an even more an exciting night.
Words of the powerful mind, tell me where you hide, where in the world can I find, find you to create a masterpiece, burn paper with ink, write till I no more blink, as you take me to a place of so many tears, peaceful sleeps, sorrow, happiness, and enchanted dreams…
I want to write, something nice, but nothing comes to mind. Words have deserted me, why are they so unkind and will not come out from where they normally hide…
poem by Thato Maluleka
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Inner Need
I had something strange happen to me.
Someone asked for a copy of my Easter sermon.
They said the words I spoke
made such of an impression on them.
They asked if they could have
a copy of it to keep.
Of course, I said it was no problem.
Sometimes we as writers
write things we cannot see,
that fill someone else’s world
with some inner need.
The words we write bring them something
we may have never thought about.
They bring some peace of mind
that they had been searching for.
They feel our words
are so relevant to them
that they have this need
to read those words
over and over again.
2 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gift Was Given To Me
THE TGIFT WAS GIVEN TO ME
The Gift was given to me
and new worlds within
could be found and made
again and again-
If I wanted the Stars in my words
They would play their Light for me-
If I wanted Darkness
Heavens and Hells have their loss in long songs-
I knew I could write and write
many imaginary and many real things-
But what did it all mean?
I was only one more soul
in a universe where God
has given many many words
amd many many gifts
many clearly greater than mine-
What are all my searchings and singings
for Beauty and Love and Goodness
If God does not need them?
I was given a gift
and it may be I am mocked for my gift-
So I write these words too in fear, in gratitude, in irony.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Will Write About You, God
I will write about You,
With my last breath I would.
Your Hand's upon my pen,
Your Words in mind again.
Tried to veer away from it,
Tried some drama and some wit,
But You are so persistent,
Gave the score for my content.
You will not let me go,
I plant Your Words, they will grow
In hearts of hardened soil so barren,
You draw them in, the souls of men.
Now is the time, now is the season,
To write Your Words that is the reason
This gift was given, it's for You.
Until the end...I will write about You.
'For it is God Who works in You, to will and to do according to His good purpose.'
Philippians 2: 13
----
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
June 5,2009
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Yeats so simply stated
' Words alone are certain good. '
And to the great poet
So highly rated
I try to listen, as I should; Yet
Being an untrained novice
Such as me
With verdant hopes of much improvement
- oh that I would -
I beg to slightly differ with W. B.
And offer here my humble opinion
- if I could -
Good certainly is not words alone,
For without humanity
To read and to write
How would they ever become known?
- For without the good of people
Who of these words would care
Ever to be heard, or even shared?
No, the good does not alone from words arise,
Rather from human beings
Whose entire story
Such words do attempt to comprise.......
- Words written in this time
May even the way
To a distant future find,
But not on their own
And never alone.
For it takes people's
- hand's to write
- eye's to read
- heart and soul to understand
The purpose, and the need.
Let it here be shown
Words alone
Are not the only good,
They need human beings
To give goodness and life
To their reason and meaning
For they are merely the vehicle
By which man's true good
Is found and understood.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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